The Bright Side of Christmas
by nonetrackmind
Summary: With Christmas approaching, Hermione misses her memory-modified parents and George misses Fred more than ever. However, with a little optimism, each can help the other to see the bright side of Christmas.
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

It is after the war, after all the celebrations and funerals and mourning that followed. After that, after all that (though the mourning never really ends), Harry, Ron, Hermione, and George return to Hogwarts to finish their schooling. Almost everyone from Harry's year returns, their last school year having been disrupted by questionable administration and changes in their syllabus. It seems almost surreal to walk back into a reconstructed Hogwarts with memories of the battle and deaths still fresh in their minds, but amazingly, classes go on as usual.

George has extra classes, owing to the fact that he's forgotten almost everything he learned in his sixth year. He attends these uncomplainingly, still managing to run Weasley's Wizard Wheezes via mail order. For the most part, he's in all of Harry and Ron's classes, struggling, but managing to keep up. He is much more serious than before, putting a lot of himself into his studies. There has been a great change in George - gone is the cheeky prankster, replaced instead by someone more sombre, mature, and a little bit sad. He cannot bring himself to set up any more tricks or pranks, feeling the loss of Fred more than ever if he ever so much as tries. (However, this does not stop Filch from throwing him dirty looks every time he sees the twin, positive that he is up to something.)

Hermione takes pity on him and befriends him, offering to tutor him in his studies. He turns her down - he does things on his own a lot now, longing for the company of none but his twin. Occasionally, though, he goes shyly to her for help on schoolwork he doesn't understand; she teaches him patiently, pleasantly surprised at what a fast learner he is. In time, the two strike up a close, if odd, friendship. At the same time, Ron and Hermione's relationship seems to dissipate. It is a mutual thing, the cessation of kissing, the waning of holding of hands, the less time spent alone together. It's a mutual thing, and they both feel comfortable with it happening.

Nearing Christmas, George returns from a late-night traipse to the kitchens to discover Hermione crying in the empty common room. Getting over his initial shock, he kneels down beside her chair. He conjures up tissues and hands them to her, hoping she doesn't notice his shaky spellwork has caused them to be slightly rumpled. He asks her what is wrong, at a loss as to how to comfort her.

She misses her parents, she says. During Christmas, they would have a tree with fake snow (he laughs a little at that, and she gives a watery smile at the irony of it), and her mother would roast a huge turkey which they would only just be able to finish. There would be Christmas specials on television (George vaguely rememberes his father having one of the box-like devices in the garage), and hot chocolate with marshmallows, and that feeling of peacefulness she never gets at any other time. On Christmas day, they would wake up earlier then usual, wish each other a Merry Christmas, and open their presents together. Then they would coo and laugh and tease, and she just really, really misses her parents.

George tries to convince her that Christmas in the Weasley household wasn't so bad; in fact, it might even be better. They would all gouge themselves on his mother's fantastic Christmas Eve dinner, dress up the gnomes in the garden instead of getting rid of them like his mother wanted, decorate the Burrow with numerous decorative enchantments, set off a few Filibuster fireworks after dinner... It isn't long before George's thoughts are full of Fred, and he is on the verge of tears as well. Hermione seems to understand, and pats his shoulder in a comforting sort of way. He tries to shake himself out of it, feeling ashamed - he is supposed to be doing the comforting.

Hey, he says, it'll be Christmas break soon. She could go find her parents, restore their memory. Spend Christmas together again. His stomach clenches painfully as the last sentence leaves his mouth, but he forces himself to look straight at Hermione and smile. At least one of them could be completely happy this Christmas.

She smiles back, but her smile is shaky and uncertain. After a long pause, she ashamedly admits that she has never done a countercharm of the memory removal spell; she's afraid that she'll mess it up somehow, and her parents are the last people she would want to be victims of her inaptitude.

George smiles. Inaptitude! She is, he reminds her, the brightest witch of her age. She'd probably give McGonagall a run for her money if they were they same age; no, she'd flat-out beat McGonagall, for sure, and she'd probably be much prettier, besides. He expects her to smile, but she doesn't. In fact, she starts to cry again, and he is slightly alarmed.

Why is it, she bites, that people were sometimes more confident of her abilities than she was? They left her no margin of error, no chances to make mistakes at all. What if she did? Wasn't she human? Couldn't she very well botch up the countercharm and leave her parents in a worse state than before? What then? Ending her tirade, she finally takes her furious gaze off George. She looks embarrassed and ashamed, and a blush colours her cheeks beneath the streaks of tears.

George recovers quickly. Tomorrow, he says, they will go to the library. They will research the countercharm, together. They will pull out every book on the countercharm they can find, no matter how seemingly insignificant the reference, and read through everything together. They will practise it until she gets it perfect. They can take as long as she needs, there still being a little over a week to Christmas break, and he'll even let her practise on him if she needs to. She says she wouldn't say that if she were him, and he happily points out that she isn't. She has to smile at that.

He commands her to go to bed then, saying she needs sufficient rest for their task tomorrow. Slowly, she raises herself off the chair, and he gets to his feet carefully, trying to ignore the pain in his knees from kneeling for so long. Looking him in the eye, she murmurs a quiet word of thanks, to which he responds with a smile. What is there to say, really?

They bid each other good night then, and head off to their separate dormitories. George gets ready for bed and slips under the covers, all the time thinking of what he has just gotten himself into. There seems to be no real reason to worry – being in the library couldn't be so bad if she could stand it for hours at a time, and he has complete faith in her spell-casting abilities, even if she doesn't. He will help her perfect the countercharm, find her parents, and have a lovely Christmas. Nothing to it.

Everything will be fine, he tells himself, as he drifts off to sleep. Everything will be fine.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

The Galleon, reminds Hermione urgently. Does he have the Galleon on him? He patiently replies in the affirmative and shows it to her for the third time that night. It is Christmas Eve, and the two are standing outside a modest brick house in Melbourne. Curiously, it is warm, rendering their jackets quite unnecessary; George carries both their jackets, marvelling at how it feels like June. Hermione is visibly nervous – her hands tremble and her breathing is quicker than normal. George puts a hand on her shoulder; she jumps a foot, and he removes it at once. She shoots him a look that is half-accusing, half-embarrassed. He apologises quickly, trying his best to stifle the thought that he would really rather just hold her until she stopped shaking.

George wanted to set off on their mission once they were in Hogsmeade, but Hermione refused. They waited till they were at the Burrow to inform his parents about their plan; they gave them their blessing, and a tearful Mrs. Weasley wished them the best of luck. They then apparated to Melbourne, Hermione concentrating on the brick house as hard as she could, and George locking arms with her and trusting her explicitly. George had heard that cross-country apparation was no easy task, but they arrived without a hitch, albeit about a hundred metres off target. Throughout the walk, Hermione kept her arm locked with George's, possibly for support; he spoke encouraging words to her in a low voice, trying to prepare her for her big task ahead.

Now, Hermione stands at the window, dithering. He murmurs something and taps on his Galleon with his wand, and watches as she frowns and pulls her own Galleon out. The frown fades just a little as she reads his message ('Calm down'), she she looks at him, desperation written all over her face. Just have a look, Hermione, he encourages. See if it's them. She's shaking harder than ever now. What if it isn't? she cries. Or what if…what if it _is_ them, and they're happy without her? Then, he says firmly, they have no idea what they're missing, and it's up to her to remind them.

He puts a hand on her shoulder again – she doesn't jump this time – and gently steers her to the window. Go on, he says, have a look. The voice coming from him is soft and barely there, and sounds nothing like his own. He eggs her on again and feels her take a deep, calming breath. And then, slowly, slowly, she looks.

It seems like an eternity before she turns back to him, tears in her eyes. It's them, she confirms. It's them, and she is going to restore their memories. George grins, and the knots in his stomach that he didn't notice before untangle. Confident now, the two make their way to the front door and ring the doorbell.

A slender woman with hair just like Hermione's opens the door, and Hermione can't stop herself from beaming. Can she help them, asks the woman, and George gives Hermione a nudge. _Now_. She gives her head a little shake and surrupticiously points her wand at her mother, muttering the much-practised spell. A stream of silvery-grey, part-smoke and part-light, leaves her wand and enters the woman's head; her eyes widen in surprise and her mouth opens, ready to scream. But just in time, the memories seem to take, and she is left dazed and blinking. George and Hermione watch her withh bated breath, as moment after agonising moment passes. At last, her gaze settles on the girl before her, and she lets out the loudest cry.

_Hermione_!

Hermione bursts into tears and throws herself at her mother. They embrace for a long time, both crying, Hermione mumbling unintelligible things through her tears. Glad as he is, George feels rather awkward – it feels wrong to be witnessing this, the intimacy between the Grangers. He is about to quietly take his leave when a man's voice makes him jump. Mr. Granger! He turns to look at Hermione, but she is two steps ahead of him, shooting the spell at her father just as he enters the room; the same silvery-grey stuff rushes at him to enter his head, and he is unable to fight it off, stunned. In a minute, the three of them are locked in an embrace, Mr. Granger joining his family in tears.

George places Hermione's jacket on a nearby chair and leaves the house then, his chest heavy with conflicting emotions. He's incredibly happy for Hermione, glad that she'll be spending Christmas with her family; but what he wouldn't give to be able to do the same with Fred. To have Fred back with only a flick of his wand and some silvery stuff – a dream come true for him and his family! He looks back at the Grangers through the window. They are talking and laughing now, their faces still shining wih tears. A profound loneliness freezes his insides; he sinks down with his back against the wall of the happy home, crying bitterly.

It is a while before he gets up again and brushes himself off. Crying alone outside a house in Australia – what has become of him? He mentally gives himself a good shake. Home, he thinks hollowly. If there's ever a place no one could ever feel lonely, it's home. Concentrating hard on the Burrow, George disappears with a crack, leaving Hermione and her family to sit down to the Christmas Eve dinner her parents could never come close to finishing on their own.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

The shock of cold and the image of a tall, rickety house tell George that he has arrived at the Burrow safe and sound. Maybe cross-country apparation isn't so difficult when it's home you're apparating to, he tells himself. Nonetheless, he crosses the garden and lets himself into the warmth of his house in slightly higher spirits, feeling a bit proud of himself.

The Burrow is a flurry of activity, everyone doing their bit to keep his mother from going mental. He watches fondly as she dashes across the kitchen to attend to pots that are boiling over, yelling at Charlie to take the turkey out of the oven at the same time. The moment she sees George, she thrusts cutlery into his hands (there are enough sets there, she tells him, as Harry and Bill won't be coming) and rushes off to prepare the salad. He dutifully goes to set the table, place by place. After he is finished, he is left with an extra set of cutlery, and, with a pang, realises it is for Fred. He considers setting a place for Fred out of respect, but mentally shakes himself for being so sentimental; the extra set of cutlery is returned to the drawer, and George doesn't say anything to his mother about it.

Dinner is initially a cheerful affair, with his mother's delicious cooking, Christmas crackers, and Celestina Warbeck barely audible over all their noise. (George numbly remembers that he and Fred planned to charm the radio to play only the Weird Sisters instead. It wasn't that they were particularly fond of the band, but their mother deplored them, and they knew it.) Midway through dinner, his father stands up and taps on his glass with a spoon, requesting for silence for the first time that night, and George knows it isn't going to be good.

It's a wonderful night, says his father, filled with wonderful food and wonderful company. His mother smiles, her eyes overbright, as he continues speaking. He's very thankful to have each and every one of them there, but there is one person who isn't, and he thinks that they might take a moment to remember him. (For a wild second, George hopes with all his heart that his father is referring to Harry, who is spending Christmas with Andromeda and Teddy, or even Bill, who chose to remain at Shell Cottage with Fleur.) His father raises his glass then, and says in a loud, carrying voice, _Fred Weasley._

George's insides shrivel horribly. There is a flurry of movements as the rest of the Weasleys mirror their father and husband, sounding his twin's name in a mismatched chorus. George holds up his mug of butterbeer, but finds himself unable to get any words out his lodged throat; he sets his mug back down without having said anything, ashamed. Next to him, Ginny puts her hand on his in an uncharacteristic display of affection. He gives it a small squeeze before focusing on his plate, all appetite gone.

After the dishes are sparkling clean and in their rightful places in the kitchen, the family disperses – Percy and Charlie sit with their parents in the kitchen, catching up; Ron and Ginny disappear upstairs to their respective rooms; and George sits alone in the living room. It isn't long before his thoughts are filled with Fred and the familiar loneliness takes up residence inside his chest again. He slowly grows cold, and then numb, as memory after memory plays in his head. Each one is lucid, and the colours saturated; yet, they seem to be lacking a frustrating amount of details.

What was it exactly that Fred said to him after their first of many detentions with Umbridge? What had he done to tick Fred off the time he discovered Flobberworms in his socks? And – what bugs him most of all – what were Fred's last words to him? It's increasingly difficult to even try to remember, the noise and confusion of the battle knotting up his thoughts every time. Again, he berates himself for not knowing, for not remembering, mourning the fact that he will never hear his twin's voice again. He becomes vaguely aware that someone is calling his name then, and slowly disentangles himself from his thoughts.

His mother is sitting before him, a sad smile on her face. Go to bed, love, she coaxes, it's late. He realises something, and his insides seem to wither and die away.

George is, of course, expected to sleep in the room he normally did before moving to the flat above Weasley's Wizard Wheezes – the same one he shared with Fred growing up. Except, now, with no Fred, the room is just his. There is no Fred, but there is Fred's bed, and some of Fred's old clothes, and Fred's rubbish, and Fred's old toys… Countless new memories of their failed joke shop products and prank plans fill George's mind, each more bittersweet and painfully raw than the last; he remembers the pacts they made as boys and the whispered, scandalous secrets well past their bedtime, and he knows that he cannot enter the room without breaking.

He looks his mother in the eye and attempts to give her a smile. He tells her to go on up first – he'll be up in a minute or two. She looks at him sadly and briefly holds his face in her hands (something he hadn't let her do since he was twelve) before bidding him goodnight and climbing the stairs.

George looks at his watch and is surprised to see that it reads 2 a.m. He looks wonderingly after his mother at the stairs – when did she become such an owl? Figuring there must have been a lot to catch up on with Percy, he settles back onto the sofa, trying to sort out his own sleeping arrangements. If he isn't willing to so much as enter his and Fred's room, well… He gives the sofa a quick once-over; it seems comforable enough, and unlikely to collapse under his weight. Decision made, he kicks off his shoes and lies down, suddenly feeling rather drained.

Something is prodding him. He opens a bleary eye (did he really fall asleep?) to find his vision obscured by a curtain of red hair. He opens his other eye to see a moon of a face looming above him. The prodding continues, and he is annoyed to find his movements somewhat restricted. It takes him a while to realise that Ginny is tucking what he recognises to be an old, spare blanket around him; he feels significantly warmer, and rather comfortable. He hums his thanks, managing to catch her smile of welcome before dropping off to sleep again.

His thigh is burning. George bolts upright, covering it with his hands, mind scrambling for a charm to stop it. Curiously, his hands feel warmth – his thigh is not wounded. He looks down at it, and a second later, it hits him: the Galleon! Hurriedly, he extracts it from his pocket, eager to read Hermione's message. The gold coin is cool in his fingers as he holds it up to read it:

_Merry Christmas, George!_

George feels a smile curling his lips. Tapping the Galleon, he sends a message back (_And you, love._) before noticing the pile of presents at his feet. He grabs the biggest one, giving it a small shake and grinning widely.

Maybe Christmas might not be so bad, after all.

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><p><strong>Reviews and concrit much appreciated!<strong>


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